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Tuesday, December 07, 2010

Reality Based Existence

I spend much of my working life biting my tongue and doing the passive-aggressive sotto-voce thing. Some things are so bleedingly obvious that you cannot help but remark upon them. However, somewhere we were told that calling a spade a spade or stating the obvious was a "bad thing", and we were supposed to become tolerant and loving and hug unicorn farts or some bullshit.

I have observed a couple of things over the past 6 months or so which make it nearly impossible for me to keep quiet about. They both deal with things that are very important to the very foundations of our society.

I have been amazed over the past decade of the types of clothes that young women, and grown women wear to a job interview and once they manage to find a job. I know it has got to be hard to find a job in the real work when you're dressed like a hooker on The Stroll. I've also had girls come in to an interview in house slippers, pajamas (no lie), curlers in their hair, and Daisy Dukes. I would always be honest with them, tell them I was not going to waste any of my or their time and bid them good day. If they walked in looking to pick up an application and they were not properly dressed, I would not call them back. Why bother? They obviously are NOT looking for work because they want to work. I also didn't bother to call back people who had to have others fill out their applications. The type of work I do demands that you use your mind. If you can't figure that much out in the application process, I'm not wasting my time and/or resources.

I have seen women who evidently really like dressing like street walkers wonder why they never move up from entry level positions. There is no way you're ever going to be taken seriously when you're all tarted up. Period. My final advise on this, Gentle Reader, dress for success when at work, and you will succeed. Dress like a whore at home where no one cares. It will make you feel naughty.

Now, the second thing that really gets my goat. Baby Mommas. Yes. I went there. I went there and bought property. Deal with it.

If you are nothing more than a convenient hole to any many who passes within your orbit, then don't be surprised when Father's Day is a bit of chaos for you. When you talk long and loudly about this kid's daddy and that kid's daddy within earshot of other men, it tells them one thing and one thing only. You put out and drop them birthday cakes and obviously don't care when the Rat takes off after conception.

When you brag about all of the welfare you're getting for all the babies you have, and how you have to send Baby Daddy X some prison money, you are the Death Knell for our society and civilization.

Family is the root foundation of our civilization. Cohesive family units, no matter how dysfunctional are the glue that holds our society together. When you destroy this glue, you destroy society. Because you have chosen to spread you legs and spawn everywhere you have children that you can't afford to feed, so you're on welfare. With no father figure other than the strangers passing in and out of your bedroom because you're an insecure whore, your male children will end up in gangs, prison and/or dead in an alley somewhere. Your female children will take your lead and end up as drug addicted whores looking for a daddy to make them feel better, but only after they've been abused by men from childhood up.

Neither types of these women will ever be taken seriously. I have no sympathy for either. This is harsh, but I defy you to show me it's wrong. It's not wrong. Study after study show that I'm right. I'm just sick and tired of seeing these bitches in the grocery store line arguing with the cashier because they have to spend "real" money to buy Pampers and why can't they buy Ding Dongs with their food stamps? Then they walk out and put their groceries and screaming spawn into a car that costs as much as my house.

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About Me

I was given Ayn Rand's Atlas Shrugged when I was 13 years old and in the hospital for an extended period. I didn't read it until I was 16 and very bored at the beach. I was quickly embroiled in the story and nearly in tears with the realization that there were other people who thought as I did. People who held the same values as I did existed, somewhere and had written a book about it.
I don't think of myself as Dagny Taggart, I'm more of a Francisco d'Anconia, hell bent on pointing out the hypocrisy of the liberal looters. It gives me a satisfaction I cannot describe.

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